


Angels say they can make you suffer

by timidwildone



Category: The Killing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timidwildone/pseuds/timidwildone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some short pieces from Sarah's perspective, based on the apartment scene in episode 03.09.</p>
<p>Work in progress. Additional chapter(s) to possibly follow.</p>
<p>(updated 7/29)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [If All Do Their Duty](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/25172) by Jacob Clifton. 
  * Inspired by [We Could Be Like Two Strings Beating](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/25390) by Jacob Clifton. 



Sarah showed up at Holder's door because it's exactly what he would have done. There was no Chinese takeout this time, just a few words to hopefully bring him comfort. She isn't exactly a nurturer. Her calming voice belies the fact that beyond words, she hardly knows what to do in these situations. A sense of quiet is her only arsenal, brought forth from the room in her house that nobody sees.

"It's ok. It doesn't matter. Everything will be ok."  
His desperate sob laid waste to every calming platitude in her vocabulary. The words flowed freely, but even Sarah couldn't hide how she truly felt, shaking her head in disagreement. _No, it will not be ok. Nothing will be ok_.

Stephen has become a wild animal, a feral child, much like she was, much like she still is. That piece of her is locked away in a room upstairs, a room that nobody sees but for a moment as she escapes the door to walk among the civilized. There is no window in that room, only a light-switch that moves as soon as it's put out. The walls are darker every morning, the door in different places. She never knows where she'll awaken.

He has a room of his own. He's flung the door wide.

His motion toward her might have lasted for years. The heavy silence, the desperate fear in his eyes, the need to feel anything but loss. He fell into her, and she nearly collapsed. She has lived this in dreams: it is recurring and terrifying, how tangled they are without ever touching hands, brushing lips, or snaking arms. She has made this mistake so many times. Her senior partner, her psyche's savior, her blissfully ignorant friend. This time is different. There is no imbalance of power, no grasp for acknowledgement, no secrets and no lies. Their souls are laid bare, and there's no tie so strong as knowing you've both so frequently failed. Failed to assimilate, failed to meet expectations, failed to live beyond the reptilian.

As he leaned toward a kiss, she envisioned its end. For a brief moment she closed her eyes, and the draw seemed so natural. She let him see that room, but she will not let him in.

She is not a drug. He is not a window. She is not a fix. He is not a light.

Stephen's shame was raw. The noise escaping from deep within his body was familiar as a parent's grieving cry. Sarah has delivered "I'm sorry" many times over her career, but never has she needed to hold a man up. To touch his skin would break a door. She placed a hand on his back, like he has done for her so many times before. _You are lost in your grief, but I am the real. I won't drag you back, but I am here when you return_.

She sat back on the couch as he continued to sob. He buried his head in his hands and couldn't bear the thought of looking at her, couldn't bear the thought of seeing her uncertainty. Having taken her hand away prior, she reached out to reassure him again. His cries grew quieter, his body stilled. He never looked her in the eyes, just let his body sink toward her, his head coming to a rest in her lap. Only then did she wrap an arm over him, safe to let him rest.


	2. Chapter 2

Sarah remembered grade-school sleepovers with the few friends she'd made between foster-home moves. Always the quiet girl, lights-out seemed to be her favorite time. We all drop pretense in the absence of sight. The dark seems to foster a trust and a flowing of words. They really got to know her then, sharing secrets about boys, dreams, and favorite things. Each morning brought the same silent Sarah, but she could always let go in the dark. 

What it's like to be a caged animal is to rage silently behind a wall. Everyone thinks they can see inside, but only you can know yourself. Only you can trust yourself. _Just because we are not in love, they say, Doesn't mean I love anybody more than I love you._ With his face turned away, she could tell Holder anything. 

"You can tear yourself up from the inside out, but all that's left is shreds. Your family needs you, Holder," she closes her eyes and takes a breath, "and I need you." It wasn't much, but it was the truth, and that was all she had to give in that moment.

He took a deep breath, and apologized again, "I'm so sorry, Sarah. I wasn't thinking. I had no right..." 

She cut him off with a gentle shush, and began to run her fingers through his short-cropped hair. She smiled briefly, remembering how this always calmed Jack to sleep after a bad dream. Only she couldn't chase away this reality as if it were a nightmare. She'd seen Bullet's face, too; cold, gray, and smeared with blood. She closed her eyes again and let her head fall back against the couch. By now the cigarette in her left hand had burned down to the filter, but another was the last thing on her mind. Bullet's eyes wouldn't soon run from her memory. "FAITH" became a shadow in Sarah's room.

\---

Sarah opened her eyes and hours had passed. The daylight filtering through the room had disappeared, and all that remained was the yellow glow of a streetlight and Stephen's slow, rhythmic breathing. He still lay there, head upon her lap, but had turned to his back and was sleeping soundly. He'd exhausted himself with anguish, not to mention three beers after a year of sobriety. She was glad to see him so peaceful after this horrific day. 

A sudden pang of guilt grabbed her by the throat when she regained her bearings and thought of Seward, waiting for her on death row. She placed her hand upon Stephen's where it rested on his chest, and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

"Holder," she whispered, "it's late. I need to get to the prison. There are four rings..."

He drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. His body stiffened, remembering his mistake from earlier. He apologized again, but again, she interrupted. 

"It's ok. I'm glad you could get some rest. I'm sorry I had to wake you. I think I like you better when you're not talking," she said with a small, sly smile. He relaxed and snickered, his usual wit not quite awakened for a proper comeback. Sarah placed her right hand upon his face, "I'll be back in the morning." 

"I'll manage. Do what you need to do," he said, "Don't worry about me."

"I never do," she replied. He saw a glimpse of her there, in the middle of that lie. He knew at that moment that they'd be ok...just as she'd promised. 

With a groan, Stephen sat up, stretched, and reached for his pack of cigarettes.

"One for the road?"

Sarah accepted the cig with another lie, "Thanks, Holder. Next pack's on me."


End file.
